The sun shone through the window and its warm embrace gently awoke me. My eyes still closed, I smiled. I was perfectly content. And why shouldn’t I be? For the first time in months, I had truly survived the night. It had been so long that I’d slept without nightmares, without gut wrenching images plaguing my mind. It was a relief indeed so I should be happy. I was happy.
I looked out the window with the spellbinding outlook of the garden on the campus. My friends always regarded my dorm room with a sort of envy. I couldn’t say they were wrong. The room had a golden hue to it from the sunlight that streamed through the large windows and the adjacent garden was reason enough to stay here forever. I suppose the furniture was simple enough but no one cared about inconsequential things like that.
I pulled myself out of bed and was met by a rush of cold. It was one of the downsides in living up North. That was where fluffy socks came in handy. Sure they weren’t a fashion statement, but it was better than catching cold. Not to mention, they were incredibly comfortable.
My feet¬¬¬¬ shuffled against the floor and I trudged my way over to the kitchen to put hot water on. Tea in the morning was a necessity for me. That one cup of tea was a reprieve in my busy day and a lapse on my incessant thoughts and conscience that refused to shut up. Most found it funny. I didn’t think it was. It was as normal as anything else someone would do to get their mind off of things.
A low sound rumbled from the boiler, not unlike the pit pattering of raindrops. With one hand, I reached out for the handle and as my eyes travelled the cabinets, once again at loss as to where I had put the tea leaves, I came across three glowing numbers. It was the digital clock on the microwave and an unsettled feeling came across me. I shook my head, as if chiding myself, and squinted to see the time.
8:14
I froze and as a wave of black engulfed me, I panicked, terrified of the moments ahead of me.
“For God’s sake, Alexandra, will you hurry up?” Her voice was shrill and she possessed an expression that kept me hiding in my room, scared to close distance between us.
“I’m coming,” I reply desperately, sifting my fingers through my hair to check for unruly tangles.
I ran out into the kitchen, the cold from the tile seeping into my blood and sending goose bumps crawling up my arms.
My mother eyed my appearance and a frown settled on her face.
“Do you want to have a good interview or not?” she asked, almost despairingly.
“I want to get there on time. Can we go now?”
“Don’t you at least want to put some mascara on? You realize this is a big deal, right?”
“Yes,” I snapped, “That doesn’t mean I need to make myself look like some prima donna. I look professional and that should be enough. And anyway, weren’t you the one who was saying something about hurrying up?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and I knew that I was in for trouble. My mother hated nothing more than a ‘disrespectful’ tone. But, surprisingly enough she swallowed her anger; probably in light of our obvious lack of time.
“Well, I did all I could,” she said with a hint of melancholy as if I was the masterpiece that could never truly be perfect.
“Drive carefully and be yourself; your college future depends on this,” she looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, as if she was considering her next words with great care. Finally she continued, “I have faith in you. I know you will be exactly as I imagined you would.”
I flinched inwardly at the last part. My mother had painted a portrait of my life and this was a part of it. I loved her and I didn’t mind the course she had set for me. But still, sometimes I wanted to choose the colors, the focus and draw my own portrait. That, though, was simply a want and nothing else. I could usually follow my mother’s path pretty precisely save the occasional rebellion.
However, today, her words struck me particularly and I couldn’t help but feel resentful.
I gave her a light hug with a muttered ‘thank you’, but the detachment on my end was obvious and I could see the hurt building in her eyes. I wanted to get out of there. I hastily got in the car and began to back out. As she waved goodbye one last time, I smiled feebly and then drove out, her face no longer in my view.
I could feel my eyes beginning to water, but I hastily rubbed them and bit my tongue. There was no reason to cry. There was never really a plausible reason.
I regretted our cold goodbye and I wished that I could go back and let her comfort me once more because despite everything, she was my mother. I had no time, though; it was already 8:14.
I gasped and my hand blindly reached for the counter. I tried to breathe in, but it was as if I was under water. With my other hand, I dug my fingernails deep into my palm, trying to feel something other than the throbbing pain in my head. I could feel the tears building up and scrunched my eyes up, desperately trying to hold them in as usual.
I counted to ten and then inhaled deeply. This time it worked and as the oxygen flooded my lungs, my heart stopped pounding like the wings of a hummingbird and resumed to its normal pace.
I knew what had happened. It wasn’t the first time, but I thought it had stopped. Over a year ago was the last time I felt this way. My vivid memory was my curse. When there were so many things I’d rather forget, it had the painful habit of reminding me.
I realized that I had to leave soon and contemplated if I should even go out today. I was going to meet my closest friend, Felicitas. She had a new boyfriend and was keen on introducing him to me as he was supposedly ‘the one’. We were supposed to go eat lunch and then head to a small beach. I knew she would understand if I cancelled, but I also knew that she would be incredibly disappointed.
I pressed my hands against my face and tried to pull myself together. Of course I would go. Felicitas and I rarely saw each other and she had always been there for me; now it was my turn.
Anyway, I had finished that uncontrolled period of my life. What had happened just then was a small relapse; a lack in my own self control.
A faint ‘ding’ chimed showing a text message on my phone. It was from Felicitas.
“Still coming?” I hesitated to reply, not sure of what I was going to say. Finally I picked up my phone and sent her a message.
“The food, the restaurant, everything is amazing, isn’t?” Felicitas spoke with such fervor, for a moment, I was unsure of her sincerity.
I knew she was on edge. Every time she began to feel nervous, she would immediately put distance between herself and the people around her. ¬It was a beautiful mask that she put on- so understanding, laughed at all the right places. But like many masks, it was bad quality and if you kept it too long, it started to wear down, lose its majesty, and find itself looking a little artificial.
“Well, isn’t it?” she queried again.
“Oh definitely,” her boyfriend, Jason replied. But the lack of enthusiasm was so obviously displayed that I couldn’t help but let out a bubble of laughter.
He smiled at me as if knowing my thoughts. I was in wonder how he had turned up with Felicitas. They were different. It was as simple as that. All that “opposites attract” blabber consisted of utter nonsense. I had seen it happen first hand. Love, losing love, hate: that is the series of event that occur. I pondered whether to tell Felicitas or just let her crash and supply her with tissues afterward.
Felicitas regarded him lovingly and I knew I would follow the latter choice. She should have her happiness while she can. And who knows? My prediction could be wrong.
At the same time as I made my decision, Jason’s eyes seemed to glow with recognition.
“You’re,” he sputtered, “I know who you are.”


At first, I was confused. As far as I knew, nothing had been written about me anywhere. But then a sense of dawning washed over me and I dreaded his next words.
“Your dad is that famous author- isn’t he a New York Times Bestseller? I remember reading an interview with him and he spoke about you basically the whole interview.”
I gripped the sides of my chair and molded my face into the best expression I could muster. I saw he was waiting for some sort of reply, but I couldn’t manage to come up with one.
I cast a sideward glance at Felicitas, hoping she would something, anything to change the subject.
It seemed she was barely listening, engrossed in the reflection of herself on her glossy fingernails.
“You’re right. That was my dad.”
Something clicked in Jason’s brain after I spoke. His shoulders drooped and he leaned in closer.
“Was?” he softly asked.
I cursed silently. I had hoped that he wouldn’t pick up on the past tense, but that had been wishful thinking. Felicitas also noticed our exchange and she wore a similar look of concern.
Again, I prayed that she would pick up on my reluctance to answer and dig me out of this. But, it was to no avail and I was once again forced to face the inevitable.
“Umm, well, he died last year. It was hard for me, of course, but it’s getting better.”
‘Lies!’ I heard myself scream and for a second I froze, thinking it was out loud. The expressions on the others’ faces reassured me.
Jason looked at me with what could only be pity and although the conversation had been the last thing I ever wanted to talk about, I knew that he would drop the subject now. Only a fool would press further.
“Wow,” he muttered, “I’m sorry, Alexandra. That must have been really hard on your mom. How did she take it?”
I was left in a state of shock that he had actually had the audacity to continue. We knew each other for not even more than couple hours and he thought he had the right to ask something like that. For the third time, my eyes moved to Felicitas. This time there was no hesitant pleading in them, but pure fury.
“Alexandra,” Felicitas wasn’t looking at me as she spoke, “Jason is important to me and so are you. And this, this was a big part of your life. You can tell him.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A look of regret seemed to pass across Felicitas’ face like a drifting cloud.
Her face molded back into a sympathetic mask and I knew my chances of any of her aid had reached obsolete. I looked at her accusingly and she cast her eyes downward, but not before I could see a light film of tears gathering in her eyes. I had little pity; she had no right to cry as she had put my anger upon herself.
I tried to swallow, hoping it would calm me, but my mouth felt like it was coated with sand. A mixture of anger and fear overcame and I pulled my chair out abruptly with a loud grating noise that caused everyone in my vicinity to flinch.
“If you’ll excuse, I’ll be right back.”
From the corner of my eye, I spotted the look of surprise on Jason’s face.
I left the restaurant and sank to the ground against an isolated wall near the restaurant. Something prickled on the back of neck and I shook my shoulders, praying it wasn’t a spider.
I needed to recollect my thought, but Jason’s words continued to echo in my brain. They were so simple yet so poignant; I couldn’t wrap my head around it. First my father, then my mother; had I stayed longer, God knows who else he would have mentioned?

My hand strayed up to my face and for a pregnant moment, I thought that tears had finally stained my face. My face was dry though. Relief settled onto me and I was calmed by the fact that I at least kept part of myself in check.
But even then, I was so upset at myself for not being able to control my feelings. It was the second time today. I knew I was better. Even that persistent therapist had agreed. I got over this. I was better.
I closed my eyes and heard Jason’s voice again.
“Was?”
“I’m sorry, Alexandra.”
“That must have been really hard on your mom.”
My horn screeched loudly and I slammed the breaks. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and I tried to catch my breath. He was crazy, absolutely nuts. If he didn’t cause a huge accident today, then I was a purple whale. His small grey Porsche swerved through the lanes as if the cars were no more than safety cones; hitting them had little to no effect.
He was probably some messed up rich kid who was drunk after partying. And now he was driving like a crazy maniac on the road. I myself had nearly wound up in an accident because of him when his car came out of nowhere and squeezed itself in the small space between my car and the one in front of me. Had it not been the unmistakable growl of his engine, I would never have seen him.
Stupid, stupid person, someone would be shedding tears today. Luckily, it wouldn’t be me.
I wondered if I should write down his license plate and call the police, but when I searched for his car, it was already far ahead of me and the numbers were illegible.
I shrugged and continued driving. I did try, and that’s worth something, isn’t it?
I turned into our neighborhood and the familiar homes greeted me sweetly. The large trees that served as a canopy over the road seemed to look fondly upon me.
I had to admit, I was in a state of euphoria. Even that driver couldn’t stifle my happiness for very long. The interview had not only gone well, everything had gone perfectly. My interviewer basically told me I had a ticket into the college.
Now, all I had to do was tell my parents. They would be so proud. My mother, although we parted in a less than cordial manner, would make up immediately and we would celebrate tonight. I knew even my fifteen year-old pestering brother would be proud.
As I drove down our street, a faint blur of three figures could be seen ahead. I neared and could see it was my parents and my brother. They were going out for a walk. A smile settled onto my face and I rolled down my window so that I would be able to greet them.
I slowed down and my car crawled toward them. Then I saw a flash of gray. I was close enough to see my mother’s expression as it veered toward my father and my brother who were strolling, unknowingly on to the road. I had never seen anyone look so terrified.
I could feel my throat close. My mother ran out onto the street, her screams so deafening that even I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. Or maybe it was just because I couldn’t understand anything.
When my father and brother, after what seemed like hours, turned around with my mother at their heels, they saw gray. And my scream, finally, already too late, escaped my throat.
And after that, there was a silence even louder than the screams and I wondered if I would ever be able to hear again. Ever speak again. Ever feel.

Small white patches littered the sky; a yellow glow hazed over both sky and land. It embraced every object with warm and gentle movements. The light settled gently over the land blurring the boats into the vast blue ocean. Shells were scattered along the beach each at a different angle and every single one seemed to belong there; as if somebody had carefully aligned them into place.
The ferocious waves crashed onto the beach leaving behind only splashes of foam slowly sinking into the sand. The wind whipped against the sea oats. My hair clung to the edges of my face; the salt water spraying my feet.
I could see the faint outlines of Felicitas and Jason, their fingers interlocked. Felicitas’ face seemed animated and I could hear the faint trembles of her laughter.
They seemed happy and I knew part of the reason lay in their isolation from me. I had been like a walking gravestone, bringing only a grim and silent atmosphere.
After I had come back into the restaurant, there had been little talk. I could tell that Jason thought I was completely insane. He kept on looking at me as if I was one step away from a public mental breakdown. Perhaps he was right to be wary. With the way my day had gone, a mental breakdown wasn’t too farfetched.
Felicitas, on the other hand, seemed to be teetering from a mix of anger, guilt, and bubbly sort of façade that even Jason could see through. Judging from the lack of pitying looks, I guessed that Felicitas hadn’t told him anything. She probably just made excuses for me.
The air reeked of fish, salt, and complete and utter nature and I inhaled it deeply. My lungs swallowed it whole; pleading for more like it was some sort of drug. It was a nice way to scatter my less than pleasant thoughts.
It had been the right choice to go on the beach today. Felicitas always had a good sense for the ideal way to spend a day. I, especially, loved it. After everything, it was the best medicine I could find.
When I was younger, I was always at the beach. It was my second home and it represented everything I loved. My family, we always went to one particular city where we had a small cottage on the beach. It was paradise and left us all blissfully happy.
That was a long time ago. Or, at least it felt like it was. Sometimes, it was almost as if it was another life; that I was a whole other person. The thought wasn’t too unreasonable. I changed more than ever imagined. There was a time where pure happiness still reached me. In the most unexpected moments, something would wash over me and nothing seemed wrong. I had no worries, no pain and for those few seconds, nothing else mattered. Afterward, I’d see my family and I’d know that most of the happiness was still there.
Those rare jewels no longer find me. My past has lain dark over the light that should fill my life.
I thought, foolishly, that I could escape the overpowering grief of their deaths. I assumed I was strong enough.
I didn’t cry at the funeral, I didn’t cry afterward. Crying was a weakness. I knew that once the tears stained my face, I wouldn’t be able to stop. There would be no feeling of numbness relieving my body of pain. And that scared me.
The sun was beginning to set and a brilliant orange filled the sky. The night was already closing in. Its black cape swept over the bright sky. Day had little chance in winning this war and its battle marks left purple bruises in the sky.
The war, I observed morosely, was uncannily similar to my own life. But, as little lights appeared in the black, I remembered there was more to it. The stars that were sprinkled over the sky still gave hope of the day was close at hand. The sun would rise again and light the sky on fire with brilliant majesty. Night was never forever.
The realization slowly crawled through me leaving goose bumps prickled against my skin. And for the first time, I let myself truly remember what, of everything, I had most wanted to forget: true feeling.
“Alexandra,” my father called out, “would you mind if I wrote my next main character based on you? I can’t guarantee that I’ll do you justice though.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Felix,” my mother said teasingly to my father, “I can think of a few flaws that would definitely do her justice.”
My brother raised his eyebrows slightly and frowned.
“You can only think of a few?”
I was about to open my mouth in protest when my mother hushed me and directed her attention to the sun. It was sunset; the most beautiful time to be at the beach and one of my favorite parts of coming to our cottage.
The ocean possessed not one ripple and looked as if it was made out of mercury. As the sun melted into the water, the orange light reflected onto the silver color of the ocean, producing profound beauty.
Legend said that if you saw a green flash at the end of a sunset, you could make a wish.
My spirits soared and it was as if the sun had left the sky and come into me. I was perfectly happy.
As the sun finally set, I wished for this moment never to end.
I shut my eyes and as the small remainder of the orange light seeped in through the crack, I could taste drops of salt on the tip of my tongue.